


Paradox

by prettylittlepetticoats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Drama & Romance, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Heavy Angst, Hermione Granger-centric, Manipulative Tom Riddle, POV Hermione Granger, POV Tom Riddle, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Teenage Tom Riddle, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlepetticoats/pseuds/prettylittlepetticoats
Summary: 6th year comes and goes, and Voldemort simply disappears, his threat gone, the wizarding world back to normal. Yet as her final year begins a transfer student comes to Hogwarts, a brilliant, handsome, charming, arrogant man who has gotten under her skin / Tomione, Slowburn, Canon to 6th year.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 43
Kudos: 228





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> o-k yes it is another wip, buuuut it is in a different fandom! I used to write loads in the hp verse, and I miss it so much, it is a great fandom with a plethora of awesome works! and so, I wanted to add to that. this pairing is a lil different but super fun to write and with so much potential, hopefully you give them a chance, and hopefully you enjoy!
> 
> some important stuff to note for this fic: the timeline is a little different, I've condensed some stuff, and you'll see some minor changes I've made to fit the story. please know any changes I make that effect canon/timeline stuff I will always say and will be clear in the story.
> 
> please let me know if you like this via review, and fav/follow, it is always appreciated.
> 
> songrecs: I started a joke - confidentialmx

6th year had been stressful on them all, a constant fear surrounded the school. Even she found her focus slipping from her NEWTS to what was to come next. Harry had his secret meetings with Dumbledore, though he of course told them everything and they learned more and more about the man Tom Riddle and the monster he had become in Lord Voldemort.

He told them of his journey from orphan boy with a talent of making people do what he wanted and the parsaltongue ability he shared with Harry, to his time at Hogwarts, when he had excelled beyond all else and slowly went about collecting his followers. They learned about his years at Borgin and Burkes the position beneath him but a simple means to an end in achieving what he wanted. They learned of his past, so they could understand him now, in his future, as Lord Voldemort. It made sense, even if it did make her a little sick.

To see someone so brilliant, so naturally gifted, to see him turn down the wrong path … it was dreadful. She thought once or twice, when lying in her twin bed in Gryffindor tower, she thought about what he could have become if he hadn't had a bad childhood, if he hadn't thirsted for power. She thought what he could have been. Instead of what he had been instead of how twisted and depraved he had become.

 _Horcruxes_ , it was a dirty word, and the main thing tying Voldemort to the earth. Harry and Dumbledore went on a mission to find them, and found and destroyed three: the ring, the locket, the diadem in the space of less than a year, but not all, it wasn't enough. They had more to do, and as Harry chased the objects with Dumbledore, Hermione did research, Ron provided much needed levity. They soldiered on, determined.

They would defeat him, the man that would see her killed, Harry murdered and even Ron executed, blood traitor and all. They would destroy him, they were determined, three teenagers and a brilliant wizard would see the biggest evil the wizarding world had ever known dead. She was sure of it.

And then Dumbledore fell.

Hermione had been too shocked to cry, as Harry told them, as he sobbed, and Ron pulled his best friend into a hug. Hermione had only stood, unable to believe it. Dumbledore? The great Dumbledore? Disarmed by Draco Malfoy and then executed by Snape? It felt unreal, too insane to be true… though what came next was even more insane.

He disappeared.

Voldemort, the spectre that had hung over them for years, that had ruined Harry's life, terrorised all around him, persecuted her. He had just up and vanished. For the first few months they simply thought he was lying low, but months passed by, his Death Eaters were rounded up, found, locked up. The dementors perished in a sea of screams on one random night. The giants went back to their caves, the pureblood families carried on with their blood purity and their sneers but nothing else. Even Snape, revealed his true allegiances, showed his memories and confirmed, his fake master had disappeared.

He was simply gone.

And only 6 months after they had not heard a peep, as the last Death Eaters were thrown in Azkaban never to be released, as Fenir Greyback was killed in a Ministry standoff did they finally celebrate that he was gone. No one knew how, but they knew he was. They danced, drank, and cheered until dawn. Parties erupted across the country as the Ministry officially announced they believed him dead. People partied, cried, smiled, celebrated that he was gone.

They celebrated _too_ _soon_.

* * *

He showed up at the start of 7th year. Apparently, he was at Durmstrang and his father moved over here for work, and he had no choice but to follow. She could see immediately he resented being here, his eyes screamed _'I am better than this'_ and he rolled those eyes as he walked past her seat. He was sorted after the initial sorting and the hat barely brushed his head before it shrieked Slytherin. More concerning it flopped onto the floor after he was sorted, writhing on the podium before it jumped back up as though nothing was wrong. He shrugged as though he didn't care, took a seat next to Draco Malfoy (pardoned and much quieter now) and fell quiet. Why she was watching him part of her still doesn't know, but when he met her gaze, she dropped hers a second too late.

The next morning the girls at every table were gigging over him and he was ignoring any attention, only talking quietly to the little gang around him; Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. He ignored everyone else, as though they were not worth his time, as though just acknowledging them was beneath him. That morning he did look at her again, which she caught out of the corner of her eye and tried to pretend she hadn't seen, but by his smirk she could tell he knew she had. He stared at her a lot back then, as though trying to unpick her, often she didn't mean to, but she ended up staring back, his eyes boring into hers before she found the will to break free.

She disliked him, and her petty reasoning behind her dislike was both childish and trivial but it just was. He was soon beating her in class.

He raced ahead her of, and she was soon bumped down to the number 2 spot, with Malfoy nipping at her heels as he always had been. But this new boy? Tom, she learned his name was, he was ahead in everything. Whilst she sat in the library for hours slaving on an essay, he'd do it the night before and still beat her. When she sat in class going over and over the wand movements to make it perfect, he'd simply flick his and it would work. He didn't even have to try, and he was leagues ahead of her. And again, he didn't seem to care, he knew how good he was, and he didn't even care.

They had a round of practice NEWTs, he had O's across the board, whereas her one 'E' felt like a stain on her record. He'd even achieved 100% in Transfiguration and Defence, whereas she'd hit nothing over 90% in hers. It was stupid she knew, it didn't matter, but by god it made her insides burn. That this boy, this arrogant, handsome, smug faced boy had waltzed in and taken the top spot without even any effort! If he'd worked hard for it and grinded like she did she could have admired it, but when a Professor called on him, and he didn't bother to practice before he got it in one, god it made her want to kill him.

He didn't even bother revising, not for the practice exams and not even as NEWT's got harder and more intense. Instead he sat in the library, heavy tomes in front of him in Latin, and in Runes, complex that even she couldn't understand. And, if he wasn't in the library he was with his cronies, the band of 4 soon inseparable.

Just three months into 7th year and he corrected her on an essay, "The easiest way to circumvent Gawps 4th law is to..." But she cut him off.

"You can't circumvent Gawps laws" She scoffed then, her mind so narrow at that point. She dismissed him, how smart was he then? If he was coming out with such outlandish theories? She felt a little smug then, clearly, he wasn't so smart if he didn't understand some basic principles, that made her feel better, at least she was better in one thing than he was.

But he hadn't seemed embarrassed to be wrong, or believe he was wrong, instead he just rolled his eyes, put a finger under her chin (to which her splutter of protest had been roundly ignored), to tilt her gaze to him and said "You disappoint me Hermione" before he walked away. She didn't wonder how he knew her name, she brushed her hand over where his fingers had touched her chin, where it had felt like it burned and felt an odd twinge in her stomach.

For days after she caught herself looking at him, and it was the only time he didn't look back, he didn't spare her a glance, and she found she missed his gaze and was roundly furious at herself for thinking such a thing. Still, she did miss it, no matter how angry she was at herself for doing so.

The quidditch season soon came upon them, and he didn't seem to give a damn. He ignored the games, didn't even attend, even as his cronies played on the team (except Blaise, who looked like he'd rather die than muddy his robes), he sat in the library or was missing all together. Hermione attended of course, always to support Harry, clapping but secretly itching to get to her charms essay or a good potions book.

For one game it was pouring it down with rain, and Harry and Ron both gave her a smile before telling her to head to the library, letting her off the hook. She had grinned at them both, wished them luck and jokingly ruffled their hair before heading for the comfort of her books and the smell of parchment. The library was empty, the masses still attended quidditch in a small storm, and so the library was devoid of people for once.

Except for _him_ of course.

He sat in what was usually her preferred seat, in the back corner, tucked between the more advanced books that were rarely visited, these books were for Mastery students, complex magic few understood. She glared at him as she arrived and saw the seat occupied. He didn't even look up from the book he was reading but raised a hand to indicate the seat opposite him was free. She hesitated and he lifted his gaze to meet hers, a little smirk on his lips, his head tilting this time to indicate she should definitely sit down. She wanted to storm off to prove a point and yet she found herself sliding into the seat opposite as though against her own will. He said nothing as she did sit, just went back to his book as she opened hers.

They sat in silence. It was a comfortable silence, and Hermione liked that he didn't feel the need to fill the air with chatter, though she broke the silence first.

"Working on anything interesting?" She asked, her tone clipped in an effort to seem neutral, focused, rather than distracted as she was by the urge to look up at him. She had to play it cool, that was another thing that had bothered her about him, he always seemed unfazed by anything, so collected, the opposite of her with her heavy bookbag she often dropped and her frizzy hair. He glided through the corridors so self-assured and confident, and that made her hate him a little more.

He was so put together, handsome, and sure of himself. The girls fawned over him of course, handsome Tom, smart and aloof. She saw the girls giggling over him, she heard Lavender and Pavarti gossip about him, though there wasn't much to gossip about. Rumour had it he poor, lived in Lancashire (though he had an upper crust accent that Hermione was sure had to be fake), and had no interest in dating. He didn't mingle with girls, was rarely seen around the castle outside of class. However, his handsomeness was the subject of much gossip, and rumour had it when spoken to he was charming if a little snobby. The girls adored him, and he already had a pack of loyal friends.

"Nothing you'd understand" He replied, his tone neutral, no harshness there, and yet her mouth had opened in outrage and she had spluttered, glared at him, but once again he cut her off. "Not that I mean any offence, few would understand" He said it again, like a fact and she wanted to snatch that book from his hands and prove she could understand. How dare he question her intelligence!

"How dare…"

But again he cut her off, "I'm not questioning your intelligence" Had he read her mind? At that he lifted his gaze to hers, and she worried for a moment he could read her mind … but no, he was powerful yes, talented but also a 7th year, there was no way he could perform legilimency. He smirked again then, as though he had thought of something very amusing and she glared back before he continued on, his smirk did not drop. Whoever had said he was charming was a liar, he was infuriating … albeit easy on the eyes.

"I don't question your intelligence, it is undeniable, you're probably the brightest witch of your generation, I only question your narrow mind" He said, dropping his gaze back to the tome.

Affronted and deeply offended Hermione stood to her feet and snatched up her things, she would study elsewhere, perhaps the common room, where her intelligence wouldn't be (wrongly) questioned. She glared at him but couldn't leave without saying a last word.

"I'd question your intelligence, when the text your reading is widely considered to be full of false hoods" She sneered, she hadn't known she could sneer before and yet she did.

He didn't seem fazed though, didn't even look up, "I know" He said simply, and she resisted the urge to shriek at him, and instead did the sensible thing and marched off. She didn't see him smirking as she left, nor did she see him close the book with a snap and watch her as she left.

She didn't see him smirk to himself, and she certainly didn't realise that he was now thinking of all the little things he had effortless picked out of her head.

_'Handsome'_

_'Self-assured'_

_'Confident'_

_'Easy on the eyes'_

She didn't realise her thoughts on him were now his to own.

She didn't realise that one day she would be his to own too.

* * *


	2. Unease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> authorsnote: here we goooo.
> 
> I love this couple, love this fic, hope you do to! lemme know if you, pls enjoy!
> 
> songrecs: two weeks - fka twigs

It was just two days after their altercation at the library and Hermione refused to even glance his way. It was difficult of course, for ever since he had come to Hogwarts, she had found her gaze straying to him, finding him when she didn't mean to. She knew it were wrong, she didn't even know him! He was arrogant, insulting and clearly had thrown his lot in with the Slytherin's, but she had been unable to help it.

And yet, after he had insulted her in the library, she had managed to keep her gaze away from him, though she sat tense at mealtimes, and in class. He wasn't one to raise his hand, unlike her, so she could ignore him steadily, and it worked for her.

Until Potions class.

Slughorn had moved on from the subject after his one year, and now they were taught by a somehow older potioneer, with a gruff voice, Professor Calhorn who more or less left them to it but graded harshly. That was fine with Hermione, and as she walked into class, always five minutes early, Harry and Ron grumpily trailing at her heels, she found herself a desk at the front, set up her cauldron and ingredients, and soon the rest of the class followed.

She could hear him come in, though she didn't turn to look. She knew what he would be looking like, he had a swagger to his step that was subtle but there all the same. He'd be walking with his cronies, smirking as he often did, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him actually smile. He'd sit at the back of the class, offer no answers to questions, ignore everyone, and still do the best.

It was absolutely infuriating.

And unfair! She worked her ass off, and he had just paraded in and stolen the top spot from her. Still, ever since their argument in the library she had been trying not to think of him too much and had resolved to work harder. She knew she was only a few points off him in Potions, she could catch up, would catch up, and now with being mad at him and steadfastly ignoring him, she figured was the perfect time.

Of course, she knew it was ridiculous to be so swept up in thinking about him, hence her vow to herself to stop thinking about him so much. She didn't even know him! He was a stranger, and so she needed to stop being so fixated on him, she needed to focus.

"Okay" Professor Calhorn quieted them all down and Hermione immediately began to pay attention as he put up instructions for a new assignment on the chalk board. "You'll be pairing up for this one, and it is a large project, so work hard and you'll do well"

And then he began to list the pairings. She knew before he got to her name, she knew before he finally reached 'G' for Granger, and her eyes had slid shut, as she knew, she knew who he'd pair her with. Part of her wanted to interrupt, cut him off before he read her partners name but she would never disrespect a teacher like that … well at least not one who hadn't wronged her, though that was debatable as he read out.

"Hermione Granger, paired with Tom Pevel"

The girls shot her some jealous looks, Harry and Ron shrugged (she hadn't told them about her little starring contests with the new boy, nor their disagreement in the library), and went to their partners, and she knew she'd need to make her way to Tom. She lingered just a second at her own bench, to collect her thoughts, before picking up her things and making her way to the back of the classroom.

He didn't look at her as she walked over, instead his gaze was on his textbook and she resisted making some comment about how it seemed he actually did study. She knew if she let it, this could spiral out of control, and she'd be arguing with him more than working. She resolved to simply treat him like a colleague, to work together but nothing more. She had to keep her gaze off him, and she would not fight with him again.

"Hello Hermione" He spoke first of course, in that silky voice she hated. She resisted the urge to glare at him as she sat down, opened up her books and looked straight ahead, she would talk to him as little as possible during this project, and treat him civilly, otherwise she was sure she'd end up shrieking at him.

He was too … slippery, he made her tongue tied and made her doubt herself, which was worse she felt than Malfoy's bullying or the taunts from the Slytherin girls. She'd rather they call her bucktoothed or ugly than have Tom make her question her own abilities.

"Now start off by chatting to your partner, decide on your project" Her new Professor said, and she wanted to stand up and yell at him for forcing her to partner with Tom or perhaps beg him to change his mind. She knew they were paired because they were the two highest scoring in the class, but she could still be annoyed about it. "The rules of the project are, you have to create an improvement upon an older potion, anything 10 years old should be fine, but it must not have been improved upon since creation" At that he nodded and left them too it.

Instantly the room rioted in chatters, in partners from different houses shaking hands and chatting away about their plans. She turned to Tom, knowing she couldn't completely ignore him, and tried to be cordial as she spoke, though it was hard as he just looked at her, with that insufferable smirk on his features.

"I would suggest we do something like Capillum potion, for hair growth, or for something more challenging perhaps Somnium? The dream potion" She forgot for a moment her resolve to keep the conversation short as she went on one, as she often did with academic ideas, "Or we could go for something more difficult, take a potion from the early 1900's?" She mulled then, and reached for a quill and piece of parchment, scratching down her suggestions.

Sure, she could feel unsettled around Tom, she could feel uneasy and uncomfortable, but to hell would she let him mess up her schoolwork. She was already in 2nd place thanks to him; she would not slip to 3rd because she found him to make her nervous.

"No" He said simply, and she turned to him with a raised eyebrow then, halting her writing? No? No? When he didn't seem inclined to elaborate, she spoke, a little aghast.

"No? Care to elaborate? Explain why?" She asked, not used to being questioned and decidedly not liking it.

"Your ideas are boring" He was unapologetic and that was worse. The few times she'd been corrected by peers in her schoolwork they did so from an angle of trying to help, apologetic to criticise, but with Tom? He seemed almost happy to pick apart her work, tell her why she was wrong.

It made her want to curse him into next week.

"Hair growth? Dreams?" He rolled his eyes then, and reached for her parchment, plucked her quill from her hands, and as he always did ignored her splutter of annoyance. He scratched down his own words (and of course he had perfect script), and then tossed the parchment back to her, with his smirk firmly in place. "Have some imagination Hermione"

When she saw what he wrote she looked at him in shock, but again he was unapologetic, head tilted slightly to the side, smirking as always.

This time she wanted to punch him.

"No" It was her turn to respond in that kind now, "The Draught of Living Death is too complicated and dangerous to mess with" She shook her head, "Spellman's 5th Guide on Complex Potions says that any alterations could make it more deadly and the effects irreversible"

He had the audacity to tut at her then, shake his head and gather his things, she could see other people filing out then, for it had been a shorter lesson and people were in a hurry to get to dinner.

She knew they had more to discuss but she could feel herself getting worked up, perhaps leaving it for the moment was the better option. After all she had promised herself, she'd be civil and not engage with him as she had in the library. Perhaps leaving things until next lesson was for the best.

And yet Tom didn't seem to think that.

Instead, as others filed out, he took his time gathering his things, Hermione gathered hers too and yet she could sense he had more to say. Why she lingered to see if he did, she wasn't sure. Wasn't she supposed to be not engaging with him? She had avoided where he sat in the library since their confrontation, and her whole plan was to ignore him outside of this project. Why was she lingering? She shouldn't have.

As she'd learn as the last student left the room. Only when the classroom was empty, and Hermione decided okay, she should make a dash for the door did Tom turn to her, things forgotten, suddenly far too close for her liking.

He stepped closer, forcing her to step back, trapping her between himself and the bench. When she was trapped, he placed an arm either side of her, trapping her fully then, and she reached for her wand, only to see it in his pocket … how?

"You need to open your mind Hermione" He spoke, so smug, staring her down like predator to prey. Her heartbeat quickened, and she hated the warmth that bloomed in her belly at his sultry tone. She should slap him, shove him back, and yet she could only manage anger in her words.

"Get away from me" She said, through gritted teeth, her hands clenching at the desk, palms sweaty.

"Make me" He said simply, and when she went to shove him, he rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrists, and she gasped in shock as he hauled her closer to him, his gaze boring into hers.

Part of her knew she should scream, look away, ask him what his problem was, but she felt trapped, like she couldn't move, or turn, or even blink. As he looked down at her, hands holding onto her wrists, she was stuck, like an animal in a trap, and yet the fear she felt, came with a healthy dose of something else, something that made her feel warm … something she couldn't or didn't want to understand.

"You need to open your mind" He said again, "Think beyond what they try and teach you, beyond what they limit you too" He leaned in closer then, forcing her to tip her head back. Her heart fluttered, and she knew her breathing was heavy as he leaned in a little closer, his lips almost brushing hers. "Think beyond it Hermione, you could be great"

At that his lips barely ghosted hers and her eyes fluttered shut, so sure he'd kiss her, part of her brain screaming to stop him, the other powerless to do so, and the main part? Not wanting to.

And yet, he didn't kiss her, he released her wrists, stepped back, and by the time she opened her eyes he was gone.

As soon as he was gone, she sunk to the floor, shaking, and her fingertips touched her tingling lips.

' _You could be great'_

A little whimper left her lips then … who was he? And why did he make her feel like this? It was something she'd never felt before, something he stoked in her that sat alongside her anger at him, if anything her anger intensified him.

How could she go from wanting to scream at him to being almost dizzy with desire?

_'You could be great'_

She skipped dinner that night, sat herself in the potions classroom for a while, her fingertips on her tingling lips, as she tried to figure out just what effect Tom Pevel had on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo thoughts?
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed! as I upload this I also just uploaded a new Tomione WIP - Wish, go check it out if you like!
> 
> will update again asap.
> 
> speak soon


	3. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> authorsnote: I'm really taken with this fic and the words are coming easily, so here we go! pls enjoy!
> 
> let me know your thoughts, let me know what ships (outside of tomione ofc) you'd like to see! I'm pretty open.
> 
> as always subscribe for updates, comment to make me smile, and enjoy!
> 
> songrecs: lost - emily afton

* * *

She plans to avoid him again, as she huddles on the floor in the classroom, as she tries to ignore the tingling of her lips, the utter shame of her attraction to him and her disgust at their chemistry. She wants to never see him again, she wants to throw herself at him, but she knows she can do neither, just try to avoid him.

That is her plan until she scrapes herself off the floor and realises, he still has her wand.

She feels a moment of panic, that her trusted tool is in the hands of such an unknown. But she knows he'll give it back … she is not sure _how_ she knows that, but she just does. God, she feels more worried about confronting him to get it back, not the prospect he may not do so.

For a minute she shakes, she feels nerves twist in her gut and then she takes a deep breath and scolds herself. She is the brightest witch of her generation, feminist, modern woman, strong and tough. She will not be scared and cowed. With that thought in mind she steels herself, grits her teeth, clenches her hands into fists and stomps her way to the Slytherin common room.

Her anger diminishes slightly when she realises, she doesn't know the password, and she stands fuming for ten minutes before a first-year steps out. Hermione jumps out of the way into an alcove just in time but manages to catch the door before it shuts and slips in. Her anger rears back up as she looks around and can't find him (thankfully only the younger years linger here), of course he has to make it difficult for her, of course he's not in the communal space, meaning she has to go into his bedroom, his abode.

God, she _hates_ him.

It doesn't matter that he makes her tingle, makes her nervous and springs forth butterflies in her stomach, she still hates him.

Chemistry and attraction do not stop hate, she can say that for sure now.

"Come on Hermione" It might be a bit pathetic to give oneself a pep-talk, but before she ascends into the devil's lair, she needs a little courage, and she can usually make herself feel better. So, she takes another deep breath (she might need to start meditating), scrunches her nose up in determination and climbs the stairs to his room.

Once she reaches his door she almost falters, almost fails to open it out of worry, fear. And what is messed up is that it is not even a fear of him, it is something worse, it is a fear of what he makes her feel, a fear of how she acts around him.

Several deeper breaths and she forces herself to shove his door open, she is both relieved and extremely frustrated to find he is not present. She's surprised his room isn't warded, but perhaps it is, and she can get past it, she wouldn't be surprised if he set it so she can get past it, it seems he already likes toying with her.

But she is not a toy, and that is terrifying, that he seems to want her to be one, which she refuses to be. She is no toy, not for him, not for anyone.

God, she doesn't even know him! But she is terrified of what he brings out in her, of what he said to her, of what he seems to be. She is scared of him, and she doesn't even know why.

Next she guesses she'll have to check the dining hall, for she needs her wand, and she doesn't want her most prized possession in his hands, not when she doesn't know him, not when he makes her so uneasy and anxious. No, she'll go the hall, find him, demand her wand back and ignore him from here out, that seems best.

She won't be alone with him, she won't fraternise with him, only talk to him when essential, that is her plan.

But then she hears the door click, and for the first time in her life she hopes it is Zabini, or Theo, or god even Malfoy. But instantly she knows it's not, as the door locks shut, and she hears his voice, she both wants to run, and stay. It is horrible not knowing one's own mind or decisions, something she is not used to, she does not like it.

The door shuts, but she doesn't turn around, not even as she hears him, as his voice makes her shiver, as she resists the urge to both slap him and perhaps grab at him.

"Well this is a nice surprise"

* * *

"Give me my wand back" She figures she'll keep it short and sweet, as she whirls around to face him, to find him leaning against the door, that arrogant smirk on his face, her wand in his hands. His own she can see is sticking out the pocket of her robes, and hers is being twirled by his fingers.

She hates seeing it in his hands, and yet feels an odd thrum in her blood. Handling another person's wand is intimate, unusual, and though she wants to snatch it back from him, she also feels a flutter as he plays with it.

"No" He is to the point to, but she splutters in outrage at his words, and glares at him. How dare he! If he weren't blocking the door she'd storm out and report him! But no, she refuses to leave here without her wand, and that means she is going to have to take it back.

Though how she is supposed to take her wand back without having her wand she doesn't know.

He rolls his eyes at her then, and as if reading her mind speaks, "Take it off me, you don't need it to do so" If she weren't stubbornly sure that no 18 year old would be able to perform never mind effectively perform legilimency she'd be convinced he's in her head.

He smirks then, ugh she hates that, so _smug_ and _insufferable_ and…

"Narrow minded again Hermione" He tuts, stopping her in her thoughts, "Take it from me"

He lifts his hand then, curls his fingers and makes dismissing gesture, and her tie is uncurled from around her neck and flies right into his hand as though willing. Her eyes widen, and she just manages to smother down a gasp, and his smirk only grows.

"You don't need it to get it back" He pockets her tie then, and she takes a step forward, he shakes his head, "You're a witch, not a muggle, use your magic"

"I can't!" She protests because wandless magic? Possible yes, but very, very difficult. Of course, he can do it, the smug prat, but she is not sure she can.

She hates the fact she doubts herself, hates it more than she hates his smug face.

Again, he's smirking, and shakes his head, "Yes you can" His faith in her would be endearing if he weren't so infuriating. Though part of her does feel a little warm at the idea he is so sure she can perform complex magics, it warms her.

Even though she is convinced this may be beyond even her, she can't stand the look on his face, and yet his confidence in her bolsters her and so with a furious expression and a heart full of determination, she lifts her hand, and copies his motion, she flicks, curls her fingers and beckons to her wand he holds.

It doesn't fly to her as he can do, but it does yank in his hand, he manages to hold on, and yet it does something. She can't help her fury melting away and a delighted smile taking over her face, she grins, wandless magic! So difficult and draining and yet she managed it on her first try! Her grin is ear to ear, and when she looks across at Tom he is smiling too.

 _Smiling_. Sure, there is some smugness there, but it is more of a smile. Her cheeks heat as she looks across at him, and her smile does not dissipate, not in the face of such an achievement, with Tom's proud expression somehow making her feel happier.

She has always lapped up praise, and yet from him it makes her feel _strong_ , _powerful_.

She is not sure what that means.

She doesn't have much time to analyse it though, as her thoughts are scattered as Tom approaches her and holds out her wand, turning it in his palm to hand it to her, that smile still in place. Of course, he invades her personal space, stepping a touch too close. It makes her uneasy, but also makes something flutter in her stomach.

She doesn't know him, he shouldn't make her feel both nervous and angry, scared, and furious, slightly wanting and then disgusted. He makes her feel a myriad of emotions, some she didn't even know existed, and she can't control them. She doesn't like not having control, and perhaps that is what makes her uneasy most of all.

She feels better when she takes her wand, and she is tempted to turn it on him, and yet for some reason she doesn't. She doesn't say a word, but he speaks first.

"That was impressive" He praises her, and her cheeks heat read again, how easy she is to please, but she has always been flattered by praise.

"I didn't get it off you though" She admits, for she didn't, and though she is delighted the wandless magic worked, she is also annoyed it didn't fully. She is further annoyed that it comes so naturally to him, and not to her.

She may be the brightest witch of her generation, but she is not even close to him in power or ability.

"No" He concedes, and then he steps closer, and she is forced to tip her head back to keep his gaze, "But it was a nice try"

She humphs at that, for she is never commended for just trying, as she always succeeds.

"How are you so good?" She didn't mean to say that out loud, but she can't help it. Ever since he arrived here, even as he annoyed her, made her feel uneasy and nervous, that has been the presiding question. He is just 18 like her, how is he so good? "How?"

"Practice" She scoffs at that, she practices plenty and she is nowhere near him, "And talent" He admits, but again she rolls her eyes – she has talent, has it in spades she knows, the only person who might have more natural talent than her is Harry, but then he doesn't put the gruelling work hours in as she does (though he's got slightly better, he can still coast and do well). It can't just be talent.

"There has to be something more" He smirks at that, smile gone to smirk again, and she glares, but then his eyes are gazing into hers and her breath hitches without her meaning to, and she feels nervous and uneasy and slightly warm all over again.

Perhaps the question she has asked constantly since he arrived is not only, how is he so good? But also, why does he have such an effect on her? Not that she'll voice that out loud.

"Perhaps" He says with a shrug, and she knows there is something, but she also knows he isn't going to tell her, not now, maybe not ever. She reasons that she doesn't trust him, he doesn't trust her, he has no reason to share his secrets, even though she desperately wants to know.

"You're not going to tell me are you?" She asks, just to confirm, for she has always been curious and unable to contain such curiosity. _'Curiosity killed the cat'_ her mother would say, but from the age of 4 little Hermione would chirp back, _'But satisfaction bought it back!'_. Sometimes she doesn't know when her own curiosity might land her in trouble.

"Not yet" At least he is honest, and she feels her tummy flip that one day he might tell her, let her in on the secret of how he is so good. Both so she knows, and so perhaps she can be as good as him.

She realises that is something she wants now, she has always been the best, she wants to be again, and if she can't be the best, she can get as close as possible.

"When?" His smirk grows then, and he shrugs.

"When you prove you deserve it"

Those words make her more nervous than anything else, she isn't sure fully what he means, but a part of her starts to panic, that perhaps she should leave, that curiosity might just kill the cat. She knows she must look worried, for he doesn't stop her as she hurries to the door, wand in hand. She doesn't even stop to ask for her tie back, just hurries out of the common room, past the startled Slytherin's and out into the corridor.

But she doesn't feel at ease, not even as she rushes back to Gryffindor Tower. His words repeat in her head, _'When you deserve it'_. She isn't sure what he means, nor wants from her, but a horrible, dark part of her is tempted, to want to deserve it, to be as capable as him.

And that terrifies her more than his attention on her, or the way he acts. The fact she wants to deserve the knowledge he has is the most terrifying thing of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo thoughts?
> 
> also the pacing on this fic might be a little different I guess? heavy interaction and then time skips, and such, but I'll let ya know.
> 
> pls comment if you enjoyed, subscribe for updates.
> 
> speak soon!


	4. Blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets go, lets go.
> 
> ahh, I was inspired this week to get this going and damn I am enjoying. will update asap, pls let me know your thoughts.
> 
> also check out 'the greatest' on my profile if you like this couple (yeh, yeh shameless plug).
> 
> songrecs: bad guy - billie eilish

She manages to avoid him for a week this time.

She doesn't linger after class; she gulps down meals in the Great Hall and then practically runs back to Gryffindor Tower. She avoids the library for goodness sake, and she doesn't even wander the grounds. She is diligent, she even cries off sick (which she has never done before and it makes her feel so guilty), for Potions and does everything she can to avoid him.

Harry and Ron even seem worried about her when she hides away for the 4th night in a row, but she just mumbles 'lady problems' and they back away stumbling, blushing and nodding, which she would find funny if she weren't so shaken.

She doesn't even know this Tom, this boy who marched in and has rattled her so, but she is rattled, she doesn't even know him, and she is shaken.

He makes her doubt herself one second and then builds her up and makes her feel all powerful the next. He trains that smirk on her, forces his intense gaze on her and then treats her with both a callousness and gentle edge at the same time. It is confusing, it is scary, and she has no idea what any of it means.

He is a mystery, and Hermione is usually adept at working out mysteries, at understanding what others can't, and yet she doesn't understand him.

His words ring in her ears as she tries to sleep at night, as she listens to Lavender giggle about Ron (and she can't bring herself to care that her former crush is now sleeping with her dormmate, she isn't sure when her crush on Ron died but it certainly has), and Pavarti coo about Seamus, she hears his words, over and over.

' _You're the brightest witch of your generation'_

' _You could be great'_

' _Yes, you can'_

' _That was impressive'_

' _When you prove you deserve it…'_

His praise fills her with warmth, his doubting of her theories and her ideas make her feel cold. When he smirks, she feels hatred, when she saw just one nice smile, she felt like she was on top of the world. When he stole her wand, she wanted to smack him, but when he coaxed her into doing wandless magic, she wanted to hug him. He confuses her so, and it is _awful_ to be so confused, when she is usually so sure of things.

And so, the days pass, it is suddenly 8 days since she has so much as glanced at him, and she feels a little clearer, a little lighter, a little less confused. It feels good (except one nagging part of her that has the audacity to miss him a little which she refuses to listen to).

He messes with her head; it is good to feel clear again.

But then Potions comes, and she knows she can't skip again. She walks in, he's sat at the desk, head bent over a book, and she finds herself actually trembling a little as she approaches him. It is stupid, to feel so intimidated, even a little scared.

Is she scared of him she wonders? Or herself around him?

For she may have avoided him for a week, refused to let her gaze to stray to him, kept her head down and ran from the hall each day, but that doesn't mean that was what she wanted to do.

She wanted to run to him, to ask him to teach her more wandless magic, she wanted to scream at him for beating her at yet another test, she wanted to unpick him, figure him out. She doesn't want to avoid him, but she has to.

He confuses her, messes with her head, he's not good to be around, even if a large part of her wants to be. Hell, she wants to get to know him, but she shouldn't.

He is _dangerous_.

That she can sense. She is not sure how he is dangerous, but he is. To everyone else he is polite, a gentleman, he is _charming_. The girls gush and throw themselves at him, the teachers are charmed by him and the Slytherin's practically worship him. Around everyone else he keeps that in place.

But with her? With her he drops it a little, not fully, she isn't arrogant to think she's seen the true side of him, but she thinks she's seen some of it. When he corners her, encourages her, prods her. He is dangerous, she can tell, she is just not sure how.

Her mind back in Potions she finally makes it to the table, sits herself down, pulls out her book and turns to look at him, almost cringing that she'll soon meet his gaze, the gaze she so wants to meet, but equally wants to avoid.

And yet, when she turns to look at him, he isn't looking at her, his gaze is fixed on his book. He ignores her.

And he does for the entire lesson, only slides across some notes on their project, and doesn't say a word. She wants to but can't find what to say. She decides to wait until the end of class, but he sweeps off before she can utter a syllable.

He is gone, and she feels even worse than the week in which she avoided him.

 _Damn_.

* * *

The next Potions lesson is the same. She sits down, he ignores her and just passes her his thoughts on their project. This time however she knows she needs to say something.

She shouldn't, she should let it continue like this, this is what she wanted, this is what she should leave it as. She shouldn't talk to him, let him confuse her head with that dangerous smirk and his both flattering and condescending words. She shouldn't.

But of course, she does. For as much as she wants to avoid him, the larger part of her now doesn't want that. He is dangerous, terrifying, and confusing, but he is interesting, smart and there is a thrill with him she's never felt.

So, she does.

"Tom, erm…" Of course, she only manages his name and a hum before he cuts her off.

"Hermione there is no need to talk, I know you don't want to, we can get an O in this project without the need for talking" His voice is more rigid now, harder, it makes her feel cold, far worse than when he smirks or pushes her, this, his indifference is much, much _worse_.

"I…" She stumbles then, which is awful, she splutters and scoffs, she doesn't stumble, not around anyone but him.

"Really" Again his tone is neutral, polite, but it chills her, she does not like it, not at all. "No need for talk"

Then the class is breaking up, he is packing his bag and about to sweep out again, but she can't let him, she knows she needs to talk to him. She is not sure what she'll say, or why she needs to talk to him. He has given her an easy solution to her resolve to avoid him, and yet now she finds that is the last thing she wants.

When did it change?

When he showed her wandless magic? When she completed it at his urging and felt warmth burst from her chest? When he almost kissed her?

She doesn't know, she just knows it did change. The confusion is back already, a warning sigh, but she ignores it.

And so, she grabs his arm, and she actually see's a hint of surprise on his face, or does she imagine it? She doesn't know, but his neutral expression is straight back in place, and he raises an eyebrow at her as people begin to file out, and somehow, they are left alone again.

"Look" She has never been one to mince words, never delicate or dainty, she knows she is a bit like a bull, storming in, headfirst, as she does so now.

"I know I've been avoiding you" She nods her head then, "I know it is not fair, but … but" She pauses then, for once in her life stumped for words.

"Hermione you don't need to explain…" He begins and she glares, she feels he must be doing this on purpose, making her come to him to explain herself, and yet his expression is polite and neutral, but then she knows how well he can fake that expression.

"No" She shakes her head, "I do" A nod this time, "I know I've been avoiding you, but you rattle me" There, that was the gist of it, "You make me nervous, and confused, something I'm not accustomed to feeling"

"And you dislike this feeling?" He asks, one eyebrow raised, ahh now his polite expression is slipping, the bastard, he's enjoying this, her coming to him cups in hand, she can tell. Thankfully, they are alone now, Professor Calhorn happy to leave his two best students to it, their classmates hurrying to lunch.

"Yes, I dislike feeling on the back foot!" Of course, she does. Rarely in the past does she feel intellectually inferior or confused, but Tom? Tom makes her feel like a bumbling idiot, and that she hates, she hates how he makes her feel in that regard for sure.

But then, there is the reason she's come to him now, the _other_ ways he makes her feel. The way he suggests she might be the smartest person he knows (beside himself), the praise he gives her to hint that she can be so much more than she is now, the confidence he has in her even if he pretends not too in the same sentence. She loves those feelings and hates the others.

Love and hate do walk a fine line it seems.

"Then why are you not avoiding me now?" He asks, eyes full of innocence, she near scoffs at that, if he's innocent then she's no witch.

"Because" She shakes her head again, yes, she can dive in headfirst to make a point, debate an argument or insist something where she is right, but this? Admitting emotions to someone she doesn't know very well? To a boy none the less? This, this is much, much harder.

"Because…" He lets just a hint of arrogance enter his tone then and she glares at him, her skin flushing pink, his lip upturns in something of a smirk, ahh he didn't manage to keep that polite, neutral expression in place … she kind of likes that she made him drop it.

"Because…?" His expression is polite again and she is glaring again, she's tempted to storm off, she can tell he likes this, hell she wouldn't be surprised if he planned this, making her come to him, making her turn tail and run towards him. _Bastard_.

She shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't, but she is, she doesn't fully know why, but she knows she never wants for Tom to treat her with that cold indifference _ever again_.

Confuse her, beguile her, tempt her, frustrate her, but use that awful neutrality she knows is under his mask of politeness? That is much, much worse.

"Because I don't want to" There, as direct as she can be. She knows other girls would hint, simper, suggest, but that is not her, has never been her. She has never been able to mince her words and hint at what she wants, she rushes in, it is just the way he is.

Her cheeks are red, will he mock her for being so open? Will he laugh at her attempt? She thinks if he does, she must avoid him from now on, though out of shame, not anger. She drops her gaze to the floor, not able to stand the idea of that condescending expression looking back at her, she can't, won't subject herself to that, and thus, refuses to meet his gaze.

Of course, he doesn't like that, and she is quickly learning that Tom is the kind of man that if he doesn't like something or wants it changed, then he does it. She admires that, she is much the same. She wants better grades? She works for them. She wants to free House Elf's? She'll knit 1000 hats. She suddenly realises she might like Tom and hates the idea of not being around him? She charges in like a bull in a china shop.

He doesn't like that she is looking at her shoes, and so he places a thumb under her chin and forces her gaze up. She doesn't splutter this time, her blush deepens, and she finds herself caught in his gaze, unable to look away now, and he is smirking, this is exactly what he wants, he has her _right_ where he wants … that makes her shiver, both from a little bit of fear, and something else also.

"You don't want to" He spoke slowly, as though she were stupid or something and she glared at him for that. He laughs, and rolled his eyes, taking a step closer to her, invading her personal space, she wants both to shove him away and pull him closer.

It is odd having two waring sensations inside of her – turn away/stay, push him aside/pull him closer, give in to what you want/fight it he's dangerous.

She acknowledges to herself as she tips her gaze further to meet his, that she has never felt this way with another before. Never felt such a riot of butterflies in her stomach, her cheeks heated pink, her hands trembling a little as she toys with the edges of her skirt to stop her from sliding them around his neck. She has _never_ felt like this with anyone, she isn't even sure what it is she is feeling, but it is all new to her.

A day earlier and she'd resolved to never speak to him again, now she is within an inch of him, and she doesn't step back.

"No" She whispers, her tone falling now, for they are in the middle of an empty potion's classroom, their classmates are likely at lunch, and yet even surrounded by potions and school desks, it feels oddly intimate.

"Why?" He probes, she should have known, he'd never let her off with a confession, he'll want more than that, and she looks at his smug expression and knows, that is what he wants, not just her cups in hand, but more, he wants to know why she has come to him as such, he wants her to explain it.

 _God_ _she hates him_ , but it is more than that now, it is something else too.

"I don't know" She whispers, and he is rolling his eyes again, his hand moving from her chin to cup her face, to tilt her gaze to him again, his other hand finds her waist, and she feels her heartbeat in her ears, she doesn't move not an inch, but her body leans into him as though not controlled by her.

"There is very little you don't know" Her heart swells at that, there is the opposite. Where there is confusion, butterflies and fear, there is that - the warmth that chases through her at such praise, a warmth she feels when a teacher applauds her work, but more, so much more, "Try again"

"I…" She stumbles and he gives her a look, one of disappointment, oddly it is that look that clears her head, "I want to be near you, I don't know why, or maybe I do" Oh god, now she's babbling, something she often does when nervous, "You're smart, powerful…" Here she goes, "I don't… I'm drawn to you"

She expects a smirk, perhaps something mocking, but this time? This time he leans in, and there it is again, a _ghost_ against her lips, a flutter, and she sighs in something close to wanting and disappointment herself, she wants more than that, much, _much_ more.

Thankfully, this time Tom doesn't disappoint. A ghosting over her lips once, twice, and then his lips are on hers.

A little whimper leaves her lips as his lips crush against hers, as he pulls her forward by her hair, his other hand squeezing her waist. Her hands move from her skirt to find his chest, then around his neck as she'd imagined, then in his hair, twisting and holding onto it. His lips are smooth, and yet rough somehow as well. He bites down on her lower lip before soothing the bite with his tongue and she whines, _whines_ into his mouth, and he chuckles before deepening the kiss.

His tongue seeks entrance to her mouth, and she tentatively meets it with hers. A little growl leaves his lips and a moan hers. He kisses her hard, but she doesn't relent, she kisses back, meets him as best she can, and by what she can feel against her, she doesn't disappoint.

And then his hands are finding her thighs, lifting her up, onto the desk, she parts her legs for him without thinking, and then he is between her legs, his hands are on her thighs, hers are at his chest, and his lips have moved to her neck, to kiss, lick, and then bite.

His hands move up her thighs, drift over the skin there, and she finds her hands balling into fits, clutching his school jumper. She has done nothing more than exchange a few kisses with Viktor in the past and now Tom, nothing more. This is new, and yet so very exciting.

"Tom" She moans, and he moves his lips back to hers, and his hands continue to tease over her skin before travelling further up…

Bang.

The door thuds, and a little shriek of horror leaves her lips. Tom jumps back too before he whispers, 'Disolusio' The air shimmers, and as Professor Calhorn steps inside, muttering to himself about potion modifications, she feels relief he hasn't seen them, Tom cloaked them, and then her cheeks are on fire.

This isn't her! Almost being caught in classrooms! This isn't her at all, and yet as she turns to Tom, as she see's the redness on his lips, how is normally perfectly groomed hair is a mess, as she realises the effect on him, for a moment she is glad this has been her. And she grins, she _grins_ , and he shakes his head at her, that insufferable smirk back in place. ' _Muffalito'_ She is too distracted to question how he knows that spell in the moment.

He takes her hand, helps her hop down from the desk, and then they head outside, he cancels both spells once they are free and clear. He is so capable, she can see that, she feels thankful he stopped them getting caught, her reputation is perfect, she prefers it stays that way.

She is blushing something fierce now she knows, she feels embarrassed and yet there is a thrill in her that wasn't there before.

"I better go and erm freshen up" She imagines the way he looks she probably looks worse, and he nods. She does too, not sure what happens here, when he says nothing, she feels a little disappointment and moves to turn away. She doesn't know how to play this, but he hasn't said anything, and so she turns.

But then his hand is at her waist, and he is whispering in her ear, "Meet me tonight, Astronomy Tower, at 12" He is close enough that she just nods and he feels it, and then he turns and is sweeping away, as the bell rings for lunch ends, and she turns and hurries to Gryffindor Tower. She doesn't need Harry or Ron seeing her like this.

She does glance over her shoulder just the once, and he is gone.

She hurries to her room then and arrives in front of the mirror. Her curls are a mess, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen, knee socks one rolled down to the ankle the other turned the wrong way, and her tie is askew, one button on her shirt undone. She is utterly unsettled, inside and out, and yet as she should be straightening up, worrying, perhaps hurrying to her next lesson? She does none of those things.

Instead she flops on her bed and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo thoughts?
> 
> please subscribe, and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> also, yes there is a huge twist in this story, no, no one has guessed it yet, and no, you won't find out for a little while.
> 
> speak soon


	5. Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we gooo, a little late christmas present - enjoy!
> 
> I enjoyed writing this, and I do love this story/ship, but I really feel I need to making something clear here:
> 
> This is a firm Tom/Hermione story, there will be romance, angst, smut, hate, love, the whole shebang, but that DOES NOT make it healthy. This is not a healthy depiction of a relationship, this is not sunset and roses, this is toxic, angst, and should not been seen as representative of a healthy relationship. He is Tom Riddle for goodness sake. I know that should be obvious but I just wanted to be super clear on this point.
> 
> ANYWHO, I do hope you enjoy, do let me know if you did, or any suggestions for other ships to include (it will always be tomione centric but would like to include others, I have ideas, but I'd love your thoughts).
> 
> do comment if you liked, subscribe for updates, and enjoy!
> 
> songrecs: betty - taylor swift

She expected with all the excitement that Midnight would come quickly, but no, instead it _drags_.

Lessons go slowly, and even her usual thirst for knowledge doesn't help her in this case. She finds herself twiddling her hair around her pencil (which was initially out of boredom but a terrible idea as it takes 10 minutes and Harry's concentration to untangle), sighing and even tapping her foot against her chair.

She is officially distracted and checking the clock every two minutes. It is embarrassing really, and yet she can't help it.

She is both excited and nervous for tonight. Eager and anxious, keen and a little scared. But then, that is how Tom makes her feel, a _terrifying_ mixture of utter excitement but with a not so healthy side of damning anxiety. And then there was that kiss…

Even sat in Transfiguration class her mind drifts to that kiss, and as McGonagall is explaining the theory around animate to inanimate transfiguring, she finds her mind drifting in her favourite class.

She swears her lips are still tingling, and she finds her fingers brushing her bottom lip. She remembers his hands gripping at her waist, hers tugging at his hair, the little moan that had left her lips, the groan that had near escaped his, the flush to her chest, the warmth between her legs … but most of all she remembers how ruffled he looked after, how affected.

She smiles to herself and barely focuses as class winds on.

Finally, dinner comes, and again she is unfocused. Part of her is a little annoyed and she knows she'll be more irritated when this haze fades, for again Tom has made her feel confused, muddled, unfocused … and yet she feels so sure that the kiss was the right thing, that it felt _right_.

Tom is a puzzle. One second he confuses her, belittles her and makes her nervous, the next he is kissing her, praising her, building her up. She feels like she might have whiplash, but even as she feels such a torrent of warring emotions her mind keeps focusing back to that kiss.

"Hermione?" She is jolted from her thoughts by Ron, who has given her a light kick under the table, evidently, she was not listening to the conversation, her mind miles away as she held a fork aloft, no food on it, her friends trying to get her attention.

Quickly she places her fork down, tries to feign an expression of interest, and tries to focus, "Hmm?"

"We were just saying about the Charms homework?" Ron says, as though it should be obvious and she resists the urge to roll her eyes – of course they want her input now, when it is about homework.

She loves her boys, she does, but damn they can be lazy.

"What about it?" She asks, eyebrow raised, her mind wanting to be thinking of kissing Tom, not correcting Ron's errors on cheering charms.

"Have you done it?" He asks, taking a bite of his food, and this time she allows herself an eye roll as she digs into her bag.

"Well of course I've done it" In she looks, in the folder she keeps parchment in, in the inside of her textbook, even roots around the bottom where only droobles bubblegum wrappers and pens exist, and yet no essay on cheering charms.

She remembers doing it, she knows she's done it, she did the research in the library, she had it with her in potions …

She just about smothers the gasp that leaves her lips, as she whips her head around to look across at the Slytherin table. He is sat with his usual cronies of course, and as she looks at him he turns his gaze to her, as though he knew she'd be looking, and of course he smirks.

Bastard.

Why did he steal her essay? Though she hates to admit it he doesn't need to, he is just as good in Charms as he is everything else (i.e. brilliant), so why did he steal hers from her bag during Potions?

"Hermione?" Again, he is smirking as he slides his gaze away from her, back to his friends, and she can feel her teeth grinding.

Well that has focused her away from her head-in-the-clouds attitude she's had today, now she knows he has stolen from her!

"The essay?" Snapped back again she can't help but glare at Ron, and stand to her feet, hands shaking a little in rage.

"Not now Ron!" Is all she offers before she is storming out of the Great Hall. Part of her wants to march up to Tom and demand he hand it over, but she also doesn't want to acknowledge in front of the whole school that she knows him, nor that they've had contact, nor that she is annoyed with him.

No.

Instead, she'll wait until later, but far from the second kiss she was hoping for, she'll march up to the Astronomy Tower and demand her essay back before perhaps never speaking to Tom Pevel again. Yes, that is a good plan, and as she storms up to Gryffindor Tower and marches into her room she flops down on her bed again, but this time she doesn't giggle, she fumes.

* * *

She finds that Midnight still comes slowly.

She had hoped in her rage the hours would fly by whilst she stewed in her own anger, but instead it dragged along as it had all day. The minutes drip by like slow rolling rain off a roof, and she was sure the clock had gotten stuck at several points and not budged.

She tried to do homework, she tried to focus on studying, even tried to read one of her classics (Little Women, then Jane Eyre), but she couldn't focus, not a bit, she couldn't get lost in the tales of Laurie and Amy, nor Jane and Mr Rochester, nothing.

Her roommates haven't arrived, but then it is Friday, she can't imagine they'll drag themselves to bed before the early hours of the morning.

"Come on" She grumbled to herself, glancing at the clock again – 11pm, still an hour to go! How was time going by so slowly? She was sure she'd never before wished so hard to have her time turner back.

Glancing over at the stack of books on her bedside table, she looked through, and pulled out the one on the bottom, one her Father had given her, one she hadn't read in a while, and yet nothing else was distracting her, perhaps time to try something different.

The Tempest.

She had read this a fair few times, but it wasn't one of her most well thumbed novels, still she found herself flicking through the volume, attempting to distract herself, to not think of Tom.

Though as she read through, it seemed to do the exact opposite.

' _We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep'_ … his lips on her neck, her cheek, her earlobe, her lips. Soft to touch but with a hard intent.

' _This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine'_ … His hand on her thigh, lifting her, ghosting over her skin, skating over her.

' _Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake'_ The race of her own heartbeat, her pulse flickering incessantly against her neck, her ragged breath.

' _What seest thou else. In the dart backward and abysm of time?'_ His words as he insults her, mocks her, praises her, compliments her, riles her up. His smooth rich voice where the accent is just a hint too perfect.

' _Hell is empty and all the devils are here'_ His eyes, piercing into hers, as though gazing into her soul, hers searching his, for something, something she knows is there but can't quite identify.

Him.

A little gasp leaves her lips as she comes back to herself, no longer lost in the words on the page and her thoughts of Tom. She near threw the book across the room, but sets it down instead, and almost backs away from it.

How is it that she can't even seem to distract herself from the thought of him now?

Consuming her…

She glances at the clock again and her eyes widen: 11:45? Time has been slow all day, like paint drying on a wall, taking forever to set, but now? Now she feels all flustered, her cheeks aflame, her mind far too occupied with the man she has vowed to chastise and push away, now time decides to move quickly?

Just her luck.

Quickly she jumps to her feet, and goes to the mirror, thankful her roommates are still absent, for she is looking decidedly flushed.

One glance at herself and she almost doesn't recognise that it is her. Her hair is a little wilder than usual, her cheeks pink, hands shaking, her uniform a little askew. She feels unsettled; he unsettles her. She feels angry at him again, and something else.

He is always making her feel _'something else'_. She hates it … and loves it.

Quickly she rakes a brush through her hair, murmurs a charm that flattens the curls just a hint (for anything else she'd ever tried with her wand had stuck her hair on end), smooths down her uniform, slips her shoes back on and takes a deep breath.

First one, then two, then three, and then finally after a sixth she feels ready … almost, ready, for whatever Tom wants to meet her for, for whatever he plans for them, and for the moment she is determined she will take control and finally make it clear to him that this messing around with her is not okay.

She finds herself skating her fingers over her bottom lip again, this may not be easy …

One last look in the mirror and she turns away.

It is time to face the devil again.

* * *

The corridors are silent as she hurries through them, head down, taking the routes past the teachers who she knows are on patrol (and feels awfully guilty using her Prefect knowledge to do so, out after hours, using her special privilege to skate the rules, she feels terrible, and yet it doesn't stop her, this is the first time breaking the rules for something unnoble has come so easy to her), and hurries along to the Astronomy Tower, where she knows Tom will be waiting.

She does pause for a minute before going on up, glances at one of the clocks on the wall: 11:58pm. She pauses, waits, hesitates, she knows this could go South. Anger still simmers in her veins, she still plans to scold him, to be done with him, to demand he stop messing with her head, stop taking her on this rollercoaster he has forced her onto. She knows that is what she should do, it is even what she wants to do, but as she glances at the spiral staircase, as she knows he is up there, she knows it might not be what she will do.

He is the only person who has ever made her feel so uncertain in her own actions.

Still, she only pauses for a second, and then she is heading up. She was _always_ going to go up, she knows herself well enough to know that, and hates herself a little for it as well.

When she arrives at the top, eyes wide, hair a little messy, hands shaking, he is not there.

Disappointment is the primary emotion, swiftly followed by frustration. Where is he? She wonders briefly if he got caught by a teacher, or even lost but she dismisses that, he is too smart for that.

He is too smart for his own good, but then perhaps that isn't true.

' _You little miss are too smart for your own good'_ It has been said to her before, by primary school teachers unsure what to do with a little girl who was always top of the class, won the school spelling bee whilst only 6 against 9 and 10 year olds, won the regional math championship at just 8, talked back to a teacher when she noticed an inaccuracy in the work on the board, _'Too smart for your own good'_ – how could one be too smart for their own good? A silly expression, but if it applies to anyone, it applies to Tom.

Where is he?

Five minutes she waits, then ten, and as the clock hand reaches quarter past, she feels like an utter fool. She jumps to her feet to leave; she is no lap dog! Waiting around like a puppy waiting for its Master, no, that has not been and will never be her.

If her blood was boiling earlier it now must have simmered over, she is furious.

And of course, as she jumps up, angry and red faced and completely and utterly incensed, Tom strolls up the stairs, closing the door behind him, not a hair out of place, utterly at ease.

"I'm leaving" Is all she says, because of course he doesn't apologise, she'd have been shocked if he did, and so she marches for the door, intent on going.

"Why?" He catches her wrist as she goes to storm past him, stopping her in her tracks, one eyebrow raised as he looks down at her, and she offers her best glare.

God, she hates him, and then he smooths his thumb over the inside of her wrist, her heart stutters and she hates him even more. She wants to punch him and decides she thoroughly despises him when he smirks at her.

"Get your hands off of me" She growls, he may make her feel warm, and the area between her thighs a little heated, but she'll die before she goes to him now, and she furiously yanks her wrist from his grasp.

He has stolen her essay, teased her, irritated her, showed up late without an apology, and is now smirking at her. She feels if she stays another minute, she'll scream at him, which for some reason seems to be what he wants.

Well, she won't be giving him what he wants – not now, not ever, and so she turns again to the door, though this time he grabs her from behind, by the waist, to some it would seem playful, flirty, but he grips her _hard_ , and keeps her right in place.

"I told you to get off me" She says, twisting her body to try and get him to release her, he doesn't, hell he has the gall to laugh, and she wonders then if she could throw his body off the Astronomy Tower and get away with it. Could she cover up his murder? She is sure if she got Harry and Ron involved they could hide it well enough.

"I think you know by now I do not like being told what to do" He practically purrs in her ear and she hates herself for shivering against him, hates herself, hates him. "Now, why are you upset with me?"

"Why?" She shrieks then, and she feels some satisfaction in seeing him wince, "You stole my essay, showed up late, didn't apologise, and now you're assaulting me, I wonder why"

She can practically feel him roll his eyes, and she tries to shake him off again, but he just grips her tighter.

"Okay" He speaks in a hushed tone, next to her ear, and again she feels herself shiver, feels a wetness between her legs, it is awful and wonderful, and _god_ she hates him. "I did not steal your essay for one, and I showed up late because I had to dodge one of the teachers on patrol, I didn't apologise because it wasn't worth apologising for, and I doubt you'd be quivering as you are in my arms if you felt assaulted"

"You're disgusting" She hisses, and again tries to shake him off, but again no luck, he holds her firm.

"I think that is the last thing you find me" He whispers into her ear, and her head lolls back against him, almost instinctively, against her will.

This is what she hates the most, not how mean he is, how unkind, how difficult, how brilliant, how much better than her, it is _this_. How he twists and turns things, how he makes her feel so weak, manipulates, and influences her, how he can say one thing, do another, and yet the end result is always that she is putty in his arms.

She hates him for making her feel this way, but she hates herself more for letting him.

"Tom, let me go" She stutters on her words then, it would be so easy, so easy just to give in, and now only one of his hands holds her firm at the waist, not letting her escape, the other is trailing down her stomach, drifting over the waistband of her skirt, teasing there. Then his other hand, so sure she won't run, finds her cheek, turns her head in his direction, and his lips descend upon hers.

It would be easy, _so easy_ , and for a moment it is.

His lips meet hers and a strangled moan leaves her lips, his fingers dip below the waistband of her skirt, ghost over her underwear and then dip below them. His fingers just trace down, and he flicks her bottom lip with his tongue, another whimper leaves her lips, but then somehow, she finds the will, and wrenches herself free.

She whirls away from him, and finds some satisfaction that he looks shocked, he was certainly not expecting her to end this little romp, he was expecting her to melt in his arms, which she almost did, hell she _actually_ did for a few seconds and was seconds off just giving in before finding the strength to break free.

She pulls away, whirls around to face him, and as she collects herself a little, she feels livid.

"I am not some easy piece of skirt who will let you push me around" She feels furious, and delirious with desire, and somehow a little happy, but angry all at the same time, it is horrible, confusing, and _awful_. "I am worth more than that" She growls before scooping up her bag from the floor and glaring at him.

"I know what you're worth Hermione" He sounds sincere then, for the first time, and he takes a step forward, and she is so almost convinced, she so wants to be convinced. She notices he seems a little ruffled again, but it doesn't make her feel smug like it did before.

"No" She shakes her head, "You are bad news"

"You're just realising that now?" He laughs then, and steps forward again, and again, and then he is backing her up, into the door, and she wants to shove him, she does even, but he grabs her wrists, and holds her there, his eyes glaring into hers, she feels both turned on and a little scared, and those two emotions are an odd pair.

"I am bad news Hermione" Somehow him using her first name whilst looking at her like he wants to kill her and kiss her at the same time is absolutely terrifying, and this time she shivers, both with a hint of desire, but also fear, "But I know that is what you like"

He grins then, like a shark, locking in on its prey, her eyes never leave his, not once, even as he releases her and steps back, holds his hands aloft in surrender.

"I know you want me; you know you do too" He shrugs then, putting his hands in his pockets, looking all for the world like he couldn't care less, but she sees a hint that he does care, and that is the biggest shock to her, he does care.

She doesn't know how to feel about that.

"You just need to decide what you want to do next" He is smirking again, it is unsettling beyond belief, "And I'll be waiting"

She pauses, just for a second, _'You just need to decide what you want to do next'_

She knows what she wants to do, but instead she runs.

"You can't run forever Hermione" He calls after her, and she knows he's right, but she doesn't slow down.

Not once, not until she is back in the common room, not until she is safely locked in the girl's bathroom, warded and hidden away. Only then does she slow down, only then does she sink to the floor.

And for the second time after a confrontation with Tom does she find herself sat on a cold floor, her mind and heart racing, more confused than she has ever been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo thoughts?
> 
> ahh the angst is killing me! d'we love it? hate it? I am personally a huge angst lover, but do let me know if you hate/love it!
> 
> as always, pls comment, subscribe, and I will be updating asap, thanks as always for your support. also for fans of my fic 'the greatest' I am actively working on chapter 3!
> 
> speak soon


	6. Soaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo, new update! loving this story, loving this pairing (doesn't make them healthy tho! see my most recent disclaimer), loving this verse. ahh, I am so motivated right now, I finished this chapter and immediately started writing the next.
> 
> do let me know your thoughts, specifically can you guess the time travel twist yet? no one has so far! more importantly anyway, do enjoy!
> 
> warning: lemons ahead...
> 
> songrecs: desperado - rihanna (for some reason the ANTI is a good album for this chapter, idk why)

The next day she is thankful it is a Saturday, and so she avoids breakfast all together.

The night before she had hidden in the girl's bathroom until the early hours of the morning. Only emerging as the sun began to rise to catch a few hours of sleep tucked in bed. She still awoke before the other Gryffindor girls (as per usual), exhausted and yet too awake to fall back asleep.

She had laid in bed for a good half an hour, her mind racing.

It felt like a pattern with Tom, they grew close … or _closer_ , and then he utterly terrified her, and she ran. It was like going in circles, like a hamster on a wheel. The thing that scared her the most though was that Tom probably liked that, her running after him over and over, and then running away only to come back.

He was still frazzling her head, making her so confused. The night before she had been near dizzy with desire for him, quivering in his arms, before she'd known for any self-respect and dignity she had left, that she had to yank herself free.

More than anything she'd wanted to stay in his embrace, and yet she felt oddly proud that she'd stood up for herself. Hence the confusion.

She'd never been so at war with her emotions as she was with Tom, he utterly confused her, a foreign feeling to her, and one she decidedly did not like.

With a sigh she had forced herself out of bed, showered, tried (and failed) to tame her curls before hurrying out of the common room before anyone could stop her. She didn't want to deal with anyone this morning, not whilst so tired and so rattled.

Her head was swimming, as though she couldn't think straight, and around him she couldn't, but now he was clouding her mind and he wasn't even here! Perhaps she should have stayed in bed, and yet her feet are walking her to the library. She can lose herself in the stacks, hide away, and perhaps even take a snooze if her eyes become too heavy, but most importantly she can avoid him.

It might have been more sensible to stay in Gryffindor Tower, but she feels ashamed that she needs to avoid Harry and Ron as well. She knows 'lady problems' will only keep them off her back for so long, and she can't even begin to know where to explain the issue to them.

Harry has rejected Ginny and several other girl's advances with a splutter, a blush, and eyes so wide he looks like a deer in a car's headlights. Ron? Ron has been snogging Lavender but clearly to make her jealous – once she had been, now she doesn't feel anything when she see's them attached at the lips in the common room. How could they possibly understand?

She also doesn't want to admit to her best friends that she is tangled up with a Slytherin, she may be more for inter-house cooperation, but the Gryffindor vs Slytherin rivalry is still raring and strong.

And so, she finds herself heading to the library, head down. It is early enough she goes unnoticed, and soon enough she is breathing in the familiar air of the books and feels instantly relaxed. It is a strange feeling, she has been so tense recently, so caught up and stressed, it is good to feel her shoulders relax, to feel her body sag and the tension to leave her.

She finds herself a little nook, not her usual spot, but tucked away in the back, right behind the section on the goblin wars (and so almost no one ventures this far in), it is quiet, peaceful, and the rain on the window next to the nook puts her at ease.

She flicks her wand and her most recent read that she hadn't quite finished comes soaring towards her. 'The Key to Wandless Magic' by Elfrida Clagg. She grimaced then, of course even her reading was now stained by Tom … still, she flipped it open, she wasn't going to waste a good book because it reminded her of the man who had scrambled her head.

After an hour she managed to settle down, her shoes kicked off, feet tucked beneath her, her skirt pulled over her knees, her large jumper providing some warmth. She felt comfortable and for the first time in weeks at ease. She was halfway through the hefty work from the Chieftaness of the Warlock's Council in the 16th century, and actually had a little smile on her face.

The wonders of a good book.

A little yawn leaves her lips as she turns the page then, it is only 9am, and yet she feels more relaxed than she has in a while, perhaps after finishing this she can have a little nap to make up for missed sleep, she certainly feels more able to.

But of course, it is then that a shadow crosses her gaze, and she knows before she even glances up who it is.

Still, of course she does look up, at him, Tom, now stood in front of her, looking slightly annoyed as he rounds the table to stand now next to her, invading her space, forcing her to turn in her chair and crane her neck up at him as he leans on her table, invading her little nook.

All calmness and ease is long gone, batted away like a bludger in Quidditch, only tension remains, her shoulders suddenly tense, she wasn't expecting this.

He would usually wait for her to come to him, like the hamster on the wheel, this is different, this is _new_ , and by god it unsettles her immediately.

"Tom" She whispers, for she is caught off balance, even more than usual. He does not look happy.

"How many more times are you going to run away from me? When are you going to realise it is not going to work?" He dives right in, and she feels like an idiot when she just blinks at him.

"Stop looking so stupid Hermione" He fires at her, and that works in bringing her out of the fog of shock, and she splutters and glares, "It doesn't suit you" That mollifies her a bit, but just barely.

"What…" She pauses then, tries to gather herself and places her book down before she untucks her feet, and pushes her chair back, to sit up, though he is crowding her too much to stand, probably on purpose.

"I didn't want to run away" She admits, for clearly he wants to have this argument "But you left me no choice"

He scoffs then, rolls his eyes, and looks at her with so much intent a lesser woman might crumble, "You chose to leave"

"And you chose to disrespect me in a way that meant if I wanted to keep any dignity I had to!" She hissed back, mindful to keep her voice down even though she wants to scream at him.

He glares at her then but doesn't respond, which she thinks is either a win or he thinks her argument so stupid he won't dignify it with an answer, honestly with him it could be either.

She thinks of their interactions then, fighting, kissing, arguing, his hands on her, her hands on him, yelling and spitefulness, ignoring and avoiding.

She thinks of other couples she has seen. She thinks of Ron and Lavender who spend all their time kissing and groping, but in the rare moments they are not, she thinks they both smile a lot. She thinks of Ginny and Dean before they broke up, sure they argued a fair amount, but they also smiled, laughed, joked. Then she thinks of Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fetchley, a recent development, they are always smiling, talking, joking.

Don't normal couples do that? Be happy? Her and Tom seem to jerk from angry and arguing to desire and passion. No jokes, no laughter, just intensity.

"How did I disrespect you?" He fires back, his eyes full of mocking, to which she just glares at him, her mind coming back to the argument.

"You showed up late and didn't apologise" When the answer leaves her lips it sounds a lot sillier, and there he is again, making her doubt herself, something he is very, _very_ good at.

That should scare her. It _does_.

He glares at her then and with a force he hasn't used before turns her chair so it faces him. She squeals, as does the wood on the floor, but then she is facing him, and he has trapped her in the cage of his arms on the chair, and he is glaring at her.

Normally he is cool, collected, doesn't come to her, she goes to him, _'Like a hamster on the wheel'._ But not this time.

What changed?

"Tom" She whispers, for she feels terrified but also intrigued. What does he want?

"It won't work" He near growls at her, "Stop running away"

"Stop making me" She says with her own anger in her tone. She does not like this, feeling powerless. She isn't meek, she won't preen and whisper. Sure, she can be terrified, _she_ _is_ , but she is not going to look like a coward.

What kind of Gryffindor is she?

"I wouldn't run if you didn't disrespect me, if you didn't mess with my head" She notices a pleading element has entered her voice, which she _hates_. She doesn't want to beg, and yet she just wishes things were simple with him! She just wishes he didn't terrify her, didn't mess with her. She wishes he was plain and just came out with it!

Part of her wishes they were like Susan and Justin, laughing, joking, smiling. She wishes he would just tell her what he wants from this.

But of course, he is Tom Pevel, and as he glares at her she knows that isn't possible. This is the freest she has seen him, and it is because he is angry, she isn't doing as he likes. She doubts she'll get any honesty from him.

That should be a deal breaker for her, it would be. And yet not with him. Is there a dealbreaker with him?

She doesn't want to answer that.

"What you want me to come out and say I've got a crush on you?" He sneers, and he reminds her of Malfoy then, but worse, _much worse_. She feels pink colour her cheeks at the mockery, the bastard. "That I like you Hermione Granger?" He laughs then but there is no humour in it. "Oh, how I want to date you?"

She is on her feet, but she doesn't reach for her wand. Instead, she reels her hand back and her palm connects with his face with a hard smack, so quick he can't even react. Pink blooms across his cheek, red and violent, and her eyes widen. The anger draws out of her, as it does from him. He just looks shocked. She is too.

Why did she do that? She hates being mocked, always has. When Malfoy and his cronies would tease her, she always _hated_ it, had to work hard to pretend she didn't care, had to cover up her embarrassment, had to pretend it didn't bother her when it _always_ did. With Tom it is worse, much, _much worse._

"I…" She whispers again, looking up at him, his eyes so dark, angry now, fuck, "I'm sor…"

She doesn't make the word out, she can't, she can't _speak_. Not as he crushes his lips to hers.

She wasn't expecting that reaction, as his lips are on hers, hard and unforgiving, and suddenly she is shoved up against the window, hard, so hard it rattles. All reasonable thought, her attempt at an apology, her anger, it all _flies_ away like leaves scattering in the wind. Gone, all gone, just replaced with him.

He is not gentle, his hand is in her hair, pulling her close, but he is not mean either, his touch pulls her close yes but he doesn't want to hurt her. It is as though he wants her as close as he can get her, and she feels the same, desperate suddenly, even more so than she had been at the Astronomy Tower. She is crushed to him, her arms around his neck, her hands curling into his dark hair, twisting into it, as his hands fall to her waist, to pull her first closer, and then to slam her back against the window, again it rattles in protest, but neither care.

He pulls back then, and she whines in protest. He is all intensity as he pulls back, and then his forehead is against hers and she near pants, she has never felt this aroused, this desperate. It is utterly frightening and the best thing she has felt all at once.

"Hermione" He whispers her name, and a little whimper leaves her lips. And then he smothers that whimper with another kiss, and again all thought is gone, she is only in his arms, that is all, it is all she wants, all she needs.

His hands move then, one grips her waist, hard, and the other moves to her skirt, as it had on the Tower before she'd fled. She is not fleeing now; she'd rather fail her next test than leave this, whatever this is.

His fingers find the waistband of her skirt and slip underneath, first he ghosts them over her underwear, and then under there too, pushing them aside almost roughly. He is rough, and even though she is inexperienced that is what she wants, as he keeps his lips on hers, tongue entering her mouth, teeth biting down on her lip, her hands tugging at his hair hard. She has _never_ felt this good.

And yet even that pales in comparison as he touches her _there_.

A moan leaves her lips, and it is so loud she is sure they'll be caught. Yet she nor Tom don't care, too consumed, too involved. "Tom" She whines as his fingers drift over her, and then press to her there, at that little nub, flick over it, and then his fingers dip lower, lower, lower.

"Oh god" She moans, and she hears him groan against her lips, but then his lips are at her neck, his tongue swipes against her collarbone, he nips at her neck and she squirms against his fingers as he pushes first one, and then two into her. It is tight, it even stings a little, but then he is moving them _'Fuck so tight'_ She thinks she hears him murmur, but she is too lost to know, it is a pleasure she has never felt, a desire she has never known.

When he curls his fingers inside of her, she almost screams. It feels _so_ good, better than she thought it ever could. She feels a little dizzy with how good it feels, and it doesn't take long, with his fingers thrusting in and out of her, his thumb finding that nub and rubbing across it, his lips soon back on hers, swallowing her moans, covering her near screams.

"Tom…I" She moans against him, "I'm going to…"

And then he stops.

She near wants to slap him again, but instead an incredibly pathetic whine leaves her lips, in horror he has stopped. She still feels on that precipice, like she is stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower again, but this time she is about to leap off, she is right there, one foot over the edge. _Fuck_ , his fingers are still inside of her, he has just paused moving them, his thumb is still pressed to her clit, he has just halted rubbing it. What the hell is he doing?

"Tom…" She begins, but she isn't moaning now, though she does when he flicks the nub just once, and then he speaks.

"Running away from me is not going to work" He repeats his words from earlier and when she opens her mouth to interrupt, he just flicks his thumb, curls his fingers and her words are lost as another moan leaves her lips.

She feels so poised, poised to fall into a pleasure she has never known. She also feels some kind of outrage, buried underneath her desire, an outrage that how _dare_ he manipulate her like this, but it is smothered by desire.

"You are mine" He defines each word with a stop, and a gasp leaves her lips, at how sure he sounds, his forehead against hers again, his eyes drilling into hers, intense, unflickering, so sure, she near crumbles. "Mine"

He flicks his fingers again, "Mine" And again, and then he is moving them again, in and out, swiping her clit, "Mine" She moans, and yet he pauses once more, she near wants to cry when he stops again.

"Please Tom" She whines again, and she is sure his pupils dilate as she moans his name.

"Say it" She squirms against him, she _can't_ , she isn't owned, not possessed, she _can't_. She shakes her head.

He flicks again, curls his fingers, pinches her clit then and a strangled groan leaves her lips.

"Say it"

 _Fuck_.

She hates herself, but she is too weak, she can't, she shouldn't, she'll regret it.

"Yours"

And then he's moving again, his fingers in and out of her, his thumb swiping against her clit, he pinches it again, and she screams. He smothers it with a kiss, and then "Say it again"

This time she doesn't hesitate, not at all.

"Yours"

And then she falls from that precipice. Like she is flying. In the dank little corner of the library, against one of the windows, her skirt flipped up around her hips, Tom Pevel's fingers inside of her, his thumb on her clit, his lips on hers. She falls into a deep, deep pleasure, the outrage buried now, completely buried.

How _dare_ he manipulate her; how _dare_ he try to possess her.

She can't even summon the anger, she can't muster the fury, not as he strokes her through her orgasm, as she flies, as she screams, as she feels tears in her eyes. She can't muster a dislike for him, or anything else. She can only feel utter pleasure, as he continues to gently stroke her with his fingers, right through the pleasure, right through the desire, right through it all, his forehead pressed to hers, his own eyes wild with desire, hers filled with longing and pleasure.

 _Fuck_.

A whimper leaves her lips, as she is suddenly so sensitive, but his fingers continue to stroke back and forth, gentle, and soft, but it _might_ be too much.

"I…I can't" She manages to drag out of herself, and she feels a little safer, more secure when he immediately stops, though he doesn't pull back from her, remains close, so close, and yet she finds herself needing him closer.

She feels as though she is flying, and though the jump from the tower and the rush is now gone, she still feels this thrum, as though she is floating over the clouds, just drifting in the sky.

But she wants to go higher.

And so, she is reaching for him, pulling him closer, and her hands find his trousers. She has no idea what she is doing, and is showing a boldness in this area she never even knew she was capable of, but she wants it, _needs_ it.

She looks at Tom who for a moment looked surprised, but now he is grinning, and a shudder leaves her as he begins to stroke her again, as she unbuckles his belt, pulls at his zipper, and soon he is as free as she is.

Her hand finds him, and though she is inexperienced she is soon stroking up and down, and though he adjusts her hand the groan that leaves him is worth it. His lips find hers again, and she lets out a moan as he inserts one, then two fingers again.

This time though he isn't getting her to an orgasm, no, this feels different, he is getting her ready.

"Tom" She moans again, and then she is pulling him closer, and he is obliging.

His hands find her thighs, and then she is off the floor. He moves her away from the window, to press her against the wall. His hands grip her thighs, and she wraps her legs around his waist, she knows what's coming, she should be nervous, she should stop him, does she want to lose her virginity up against a wall in the library? Does she want to lose it to Tom?

As he adjusts them, she has doubts about the place but _none_ about the man who kisses her again, hard, she wants this.

"Hermione" His voice is somehow gentle as he pulls back from the kiss, and presses his forehead to hers again, holding her close, lined up, ready, but not quite going ahead. "Tell me you want it"

She wonders if he is asking her consent to be sweet, or just because he wants to hear her say it. She feels it is more likely the latter, but a part of her feels touched he has asked, and she does smile, a bright smile as she responds.

"I want you"

In the movies, when the moment comes, when the couple, the star-crossed lovers, the enemies to lovers finally have that moment, it is always magical, it always involves fireworks, stars, shouts of joy, sparks, and a golden light. It is always perfect, never awkward, never uncomfortable, it is always utter bliss.

She had always scoffed at that, rolled her eyes and fast forwarded through the moments she had deemed 'unrealistic'. She had always deemed them inaccurate.

And yet, as Tom slides into her, as they join as two people, as he fills her, something in her snapping, she thinks; that even though it is a hint uncomfortable, even though Tom has to stop as she feels a deep flicker of pain, even as he sees the pain on her face and works not to move, she thinks; it is still perfect.

"I'm okay" She manages to whisper, and then her lips find his, and he is moving.

It hurts at first, but then it builds, and builds, and if she had thought it perfect before … well. She hadn't known what perfection was.

A strangled moan leaves her lips when the first wave of pain disappears, and she feels nothing but _pure_ pleasure. He is big, and deep, but it feels so, _so_ good. He groans against her neck, his face buried there, kissing and nipping at her skin, and it feels like it looks in the movies, it feels impossibly perfect.

"Tom" She whispers, and he pulls back to look at her, his eyes wide, as he thrusts in and out, her back knocking against the wall, her thighs gripping him, an orgasm soon on the horizon for her.

She kisses him this time, it is gentler, still a little rough, but passionate. He responds in kind, and somehow, that, the fact he is just kissing her, holding her close whilst he pushes in and out of her, that has tears coming to her eyes.

He pulls back then, to rest his forehead to hers, he likes that, she realises, she likes it too, and it is that then, as he pushes in and out, as his fingers dig into her thighs, it is that moment of intimacy that pushes her over the edge.

If she was flying before, now she _soars_.

"Tom" She moans his name again and something close to a scream leaves her lips. He takes that as a cue to go harder, and she is glad he does, in and out, hard, and now fast, as she comes, _hard_ , her eyes rolling into the back of her head, her fingernails digging into his back, her legs squeezing him, holding him close, pure pleasure and elation radiating through her. It feels _impossibly_ good. "Ahh" She whines, everything pulsing and squeezing.

"Fuck" He groans, and she moans in kind, for she loves hearing him fall apart, and she knows, as he gets faster, harder, she knows when he falls over the edge too, for somehow that pushes her into another orgasm, one that has her scream for real this time, one she hadn't expected but pulses through her with such intensity, as Tom does too, as he fills her, as he groans and smashes his lips to hers, she lets out a cry. She hadn't expected another, and it hits her _hard_ , she has to muffle her own cry against Tom's lips, for she is sure the windows will break if she lets out the scream that last roll of pleasure near forced out of her.

He slows down then, now spent inside of her, and she is thankful for she isn't sure she could take much more. He is gentle as he slowly releases her, but he doesn't let her down immediately, again he presses his forehead to hers. She wonders where he learned that, where he came to associate that with intimacy, she isn't complaining either way.

It is only for a second, and she closes her eyes as he does, a little hum leaving her lips. But then he pulls back, helps her down, and waves his wand, a cleaning charm, before tucking himself back into his trousers.

For some reason that makes her blush bright red, and she near scolds herself. What, having Tom, the Slytherin now in charge of the pack of pureblood cronies, the boy who messes with her head shag her against the library wall hadn't made her blush, but watching him clean up after whilst she furiously readjusts her underwear and skirt does?

' _You need to sort out your priorities'_

She isn't really sure what to do next, she flicks her wand, her book soaring back to the shelf, and then she just kind of stands there before reaching for her bag. Should she leave?

"Didn't I say running away is pointless?" Tom drawls as she picks up her bag and the pink colour to her cheeks darkens again. He is stood in front of her again, blocking her leaving, and if she weren't feeling so sated (and now a little bit of pain is creeping in), she'd be wanting him again.

Part of her does, and that worries her, she's never been too interested in the physical side of things before, but with Tom it is different.

 _Very_ different.

"I…" She clears her throat then, she needs to stop being so meek, that is and has never been here. She is thankful her voice is more sure as she speaks again, if wavering a little. "I'm not sure what to do, I've never…"

"I know" He fires back, and his eyes darken then as he raises his hand and cups her cheek, "And you won't, with anyone else, _ever_ "

She feels a shiver chase up her spine and she finds herself nodding, which is crazy, but she does anyway. It is sometimes like he has some control over her, which would be easier, but she knows it is her.

"I'm not running away" Her voice has dropped a little now, "I just don't know what to do. Other co... people go out, sit by the lake, go to Hogsmeade" She shakes her head, and takes a deep breath, "I don't know what we should do"

She doesn't, she is inexperienced, and she can't imagine holding Toms hand as they go to Honeydukes or sitting with her head in his lap as they read by the lake. It just doesn't seem like him, she can't even picture it.

He does scoff then, and she feels her cheeks heat and she drops her gaze, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , she knew she shouldn't have mentioned any of that, she has no idea what Tom wants from her but she is not stupid (despite how he sometimes makes her feel it), she knows it is not that.

He'd probably laugh if she even mentioned the word ' _boyfriend'_.

His mockery doesn't elicit anger, as it should, but she feels mortified, and tears prick at her eyes again, her cheeks a deep, horrible pink. God, she hates him.

It is worse that she knows she doesn't. She should.

"Hey" Tom says, putting a thumb under her chin, forcing her to look at him, she wishes the tears weren't so clear. "You're mine, make no mistake, but I'm not that type" She nods, she knows that, but she still feels disappointment slide into her stomach.

He reacts in a way she doesn't expect then, pulls her close, into a … _hug_? His arms loop around her, and she finds herself drawing her arms around him. She didn't expect a hug, but she likes it, it feels nice, warm, comfortable. It is exactly what she suddenly realises she needed at that moment; how did he know that before she did?

"Meet me later tonight, after dinner, by the forest" He speaks and she nods, she can't deny him, she isn't sure if she ever can again.

"Like a date?" She offers, almost cheekily then, her tears drying, feeling a little more assured now. Tom doesn't date and she still feels a little cold, but he has made something clear; she is his apparently, she'll no doubt get angry at such possessiveness later, but for now it makes her feel secure.

She can practically feel him roll his eyes, but he doesn't dispute it, "By the forest line" She nods into him, but doesn't draw back, she doesn't want to, and apparently neither does he.

The sun has long been up by the time they break apart, and they leave the library, neither running, neither turning away coldly. Instead, he walks her to the door, cancelling the silencing charm he'd had the for thought to hastily cast, and offering her almost a smile (still a little too smug for a proper smile she thinks) before he is heading for the dining hall and she back to Gryffindor Tower. She watches him go, he doesn't look back, but that is okay.

She suddenly feels as though she could sleep for a week.

* * *

That is her plan anyway, to shower (for her thighs feel sticky), to flop back into bed, emerge around lunchtime, eat, and then study before meeting Tom later. She has a little bounce in her step as she gives the password and heads inside.

She hadn't expected such a filled morning, but she feels good, she feels _happy_ , even though they didn't joke or laugh, she does smile.

That smile does disappear as she walks into the common room, it otherwise empty (it is still 9:30am on a Saturday morning, almost everyone else is at breakfast or still asleep), except for one Harry Potter, stood opposite her now, arms crossed, marauders map in hand, eyebrow raised, accusing.

"Harry" She forces out, but she knows as he looks across at her, nothing but concern splashed across his face.

She knows she is busted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo thoughts?
> 
> ahahaha, I do hope you enjoyed! I love me some lemons (tho I don't write them often), and I love how this worked out. also cliffhanger? I know I'm evil!
> 
> again I want to reiterate this isn't a fluffy story, it isn't now and won't be. there may be some cute moments but rest assured it won't end with tom/hermione getting married and having babies.
> 
> do let me know your thoughts and sub for updates
> 
> speak soon

**Author's Note:**

> sooo thoughts?
> 
> little confusing huh? all will be explained in time I promise, so please stick with me! also this is kinda like a little prologue to set up the main story, the next chapter will thus be posted asap.
> 
> if you enjoyed pls let me know via review and fav/following. always appreciated fo real!
> 
> speak soon


End file.
